


To Make You Feel My Love

by Purseplayer



Series: To Make You Feel My Love [1]
Category: Glee
Genre: D/s, Dom!Blaine, M/M, Sub!Kurt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-19
Updated: 2014-07-06
Packaged: 2018-01-25 17:42:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 15,811
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1656917
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Purseplayer/pseuds/Purseplayer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Blaine knew he was a Dom at the age of 16, but even after everything they'd been through together, he had yet to tell Kurt. With Kurt's needs becoming increasingly apparent, however, he decides it's finally time to take action.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this about a year ago as a fill for the Glee Kink Meme. One of my goals was to write Blaine as a Dom and Kurt as a sub in a way that conceivably fit with canon. This story, therefore, can be considered canon-compliant through season four. I hope you enjoy it!

It all started when Blaine was 15.

Holed up in his room for the remainder of spring and most of the summer, there wasn’t a lot for a teenage boy to do other than look at porn.  His parents were out, and it was still difficult for him to get around on his own following The Incident.  Who could blame him?

At first, his interests remained as generic as they’d always been.  Pretty, smooth-muscled boys fucking, or sucking cock, or sometimes even just touching themselves or rubbing up against another body.  It was enough when Blaine was merely horny or bored, but then other times…

Other times, the anger and aggression would well up within him, an uncontrollable force with no outlet.  Then the boys—the _men_ —on the screen would fuck a little harder, scream a little louder.  Sometimes Blaine would feel overwhelmingly sad—lonely and hating himself for all of his self-pity—and the boys on the screen would kiss softly and make love, and Blaine would close his eyes and pretend he wasn’t so alone.

But worst of all were the times he felt helpless.  The minutes (sometimes _hours_ ) following a nightmare were filled with too-familiar scenes.  He could feel the phantom fists pounding and boots kicking against his skin, and Blaine wanted nothing more than to make it stop.  Those times, all Blaine wanted was to feel a little more in control.

And of course, given such strong motivation and so many long, empty days with only his various electronics for company, Blaine eventually managed to find the embodiment of that control online.  At first it scared him—not the scenes themselves so much but how much he liked them, how his fist would fly a little faster and he’d come a little quicker.  It was even more frightening when he found himself pushing the computer aside in favor of building a fantasy in his own head, letting his mind call all the shots for a faceless man on his knees in front of _Blaine_.  His reservations faded as he sank deeper into it, this new world he’d discovered that he eventually learned was called _BDSM_ (although Blaine wasn’t quite as much into the S &M part.)  It became all he looked for, everything he craved.

Now, his only fear was of someone finding out—or how he would handle an eventual relationship, because Blaine couldn’t fathom how it would work with him being _this_.

Months later he thought to question how he had gotten here, how he’d become the person he was today.  Was Blaine a Dom because that’s who he was, or had the person he was, or would become, fundamentally changed somehow when those boys had beaten him bloody? 

He decided—had to decide—that it didn’t matter.  Blaine had always been a little too fixated on control, and if what was done to him affected him in any way, it was to assure that he would never use that control to hurt another person, but rather to take care of them.

He only hoped the right person was out there: a person who could see all that Blaine was, accept him, and love him completely.  A person—a _man_ —who would need Blaine’s control just as badly.


	2. Chapter 2

Blaine startled awake at the sound of keys jangling loudly as they were tossed onto the counter.  Rolling over where he was sprawled on the couch, Blaine saw Kurt in the doorway, ripping off his coat and looking simultaneously pissed and close to tears.

Kurt wasn’t one to cry when he was angry, so the affect was striking indeed.

“Baby?”  Blaine cleared his throat against the sleep-rasp of his own voice.  “Is something wrong?”

Kurt spun to look at him, making a strange sound that was almost a hiss.  “When is something _not_ wrong, Blaine?” he snapped.

Blaine merely blinked at him, irritation beginning to rise, but he forced it down.  His fiancé had a terrible habit of taking his frustrations out where they weren’t earned, but he was usually easily redirected if Blaine could keep his own cool.  “Unless I’m a part or a cause of the problem, I’d appreciate it if you dropped the attitude,” he advised carefully.

Sure enough, Kurt seemed to almost deflate in front of him, his body sagging as if his anger had physically drained.  He looked weary now—a familiar sight of late, Blaine thought sadly to himself.  “I’m sorry,” Kurt said quietly, and Blaine felt his heart swelling with concern and affection.

“Come here,” he said, gesturing Kurt forward with his head and shifting into a sitting position to make room for him.  “Tell me about it.”

Kurt sighed as he approached the couch, dropping onto it and sinking against Blaine’s body in one fluid motion.  “It’s nothing you haven’t heard, only more of the same.”  He groaned, shifting his face so it was pressed into the crook of Blaine’s arm.  “Why didn’t you tell me it would be this hard to juggle the musical _and_ a full course load _and_ my internship at Vogue?”

“Because it’s what you wanted,” Blaine answered immediately.  “And just what part of that would you have given up?”

“I could have turned down the role,” Kurt suggested half-heartedly.

“You couldn’t.  First of all, you’re you.  Second of all, it’s a ‘first positive step forward in my Broadway career,’ as I recall you saying on multiple occasions to everyone who tried to warn you it would be too much.”

Kurt huffed.

“Besides,” Blaine continued, smiling in spite of the situation, “the irony of you playing an apostle to Webber’s Christ was just too good to pass up.”

“Shut up,” Kurt said, face reappearing as he pulled back to slap Blaine’s arm playfully.  “You know Jesus is as gay as I am!”

“Yeah, but you said that Kevin’s a Catholic, so that’s got to be a little less blasphemous.”

“ _Jesus Christ Superstar_ is blasphemous by definition, Blaine.  Just ask any traditional Bible-thumping Christian.”

“I’ve already had the misfortune of doing so, thanks,” Blaine said, wincing as he remembered the time he’d accidently mentioned the play to Kelly, one of his friendlier co-workers.  He’d been so desperate to get away after the first twenty minutes of her ranting that he had pleaded constipation, making a beeline for the bathroom and hiding out there for a good half an hour just to be sure she’d be otherwise occupied by the time he got out.

“So I heard,” Kurt said wryly, laughing a little.  It was quite a relief to Blaine, given Kurt’s previous demeanor. 

“I’m sorry things are so difficult for you right now,” Blaine said sincerely, hugging Kurt closer to his side.  “Why don’t you rest for a little while instead of making dinner?  I can get us some takeout instead.”

Kurt’s eyes lit up momentarily before fading again.  “Thai would be great right now,” he suggested.  “But I really need to work on my screenplay.  It’s due in two days, and I haven’t started it yet.  It might keep me up half the night.”

“You need to rest,” Blaine protested.  “You only have one class tomorrow and rehearsal isn’t until six; you’ll have time to work on it.  Go lay down, and I’ll wake you up when dinner gets here.  You can start on schoolwork after we finish eating.”

For a minute Kurt looked like he was gearing up to argue, but Blaine caught his eyes and held his gaze until he saw Kurt’s resolve begin to melt away.  “Okay,” Kurt said finally.  “A nap sounds really nice, actually.”  He smiled, leaning over to kiss Blaine quickly before standing up and heading for the bedroom, yawning notably on the way.

Blaine watched him until the door swung shut.  Kurt had matured physically quite a bit since Blaine first met him, baby-faced prettiness giving way to a more refined, masculine beauty.  But there were times when Kurt was sleepy or sad or vulnerable that he was still so overwhelmingly adorable, and Blaine couldn’t help but smile in awe of that fact that _he’s mine_.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is going to time jump a little bit, though never within a chapter. Right now we're going backwards. Bear with me, please!

Blaine met Kurt a few months into his sophomore (take two) year at Dalton.  He’d say that he was just settling in at the time, but that would be a lie.  There had been no settling in at Dalton because there hadn’t been a need for it.  Starting school there had been like entering a magical realm—everything came to him so easily: friends, acceptance, and even a lead role in the Warblers, once the group of boys had heard him sing. 

He might have been suspicious if he hadn’t had all of that before.  Blaine had always been popular at school, right up until the day he told his [ex] best friend he was gay.  Blaine was polite, charming, handsome and talented, always eager to please, and navigating the social world had come simply and naturally to him since childhood, be it peers, parents or teachers.  But to be out and popular—well, that was a completely different kind of miracle.

The kind of miracle that an expensive all-boys prep school with a strict no-bullying policy afforded, it seemed.

It was exactly what Blaine needed after the attack, and not what he needed at the same time.  While he could be his real self there (his real public self, anyway), attending Dalton felt a bit like playing a role on TV.  He was always painfully aware that while Dalton was real, it wasn’t reality—at least not the reality of the larger world.  But Blaine was okay with that, at least for the time being.

Even among Dalton’s abundance of boys, Blaine failed to encounter anybody who sparked romantic interest in him.  Sexual, yes—he was only human.  But that was all on the surface, and Blaine, by his very nature, craved something deeper.  He certainly hadn’t come across anyone he had any desire to dominate.

And then he met Kurt.

When it happened it shook Blaine to his very core, because it was so much more and less and _different_ than what Blaine had expected.  It wasn’t quite love and it wasn’t really attraction and it definitely wasn’t a burning desire to see the other boy on his knees or tied to Blaine’s bed, though that would all come with time.

It was belonging, and it was connection.  Most of all, it was a fierce need to _protect_.  From that very first day, all Blaine wanted was to somehow cover Kurt’s body with his own and hide him from the rest of the world; he wanted to wipe away Kurt’s tears and make him smile.

Over time, Blaine learned that in many ways Kurt was the exact opposite of submissive.  He was headstrong and witty and so, so very brave, even in ways that Blaine himself wasn’t.  He also seemed to have a need for control in his life that rivaled Blaine’s own—his self-presentation always flawless, his care for his father always doting but stern, and his defiance of social norms resolute, often in the face of what Blaine knew firsthand to be a very real danger.

But underneath all of that, Kurt was lonely and scared.  Sometimes his blue-green eyes held such sadness and longing that Blaine wanted to weep for him, though he always settled for coaxing a laugh.  Kurt _needed_ Blaine—it was there in the words they exchanged, present in each fleeting touch, overt when they locked gazes and held them for seconds too long.  It only made Blaine want him all the more, made him more desperate to be there for Kurt and keep him safe.

Blaine fell in love slowly over the many memorable moments they shared together, piece after piece settling into place.  He admitted it to himself in a single moment, and it was the most overwhelming thing he had ever felt.  Confessing his feelings to Kurt was easy by comparison.  It was nearly compulsory, as if Blaine was driven by some foreign source to _tell him, tell him, tell him._   The moment he did—the first moment Kurt was his—was the most perfect of them all.

Kurt was perfectly imperfect in every possible way, and he was perfect for Blaine; Blaine was sure of it.  He was fairly confident that Kurt felt the same way, although the other boy was often less demonstrative about his feelings.  Blaine loved that about him, too—loved that Kurt was such a private person, because it meant that so many parts of Kurt were only for Blaine. 

But how to tell him?

It was a concern that lingered throughout much of their early relationship.  Blaine was consumed with the fear that Kurt would somehow figure it out.  Baby penguin or not, Kurt was perceptive.  Blaine worried that his sexual discomfort might mean that he was even _more_ aware of every move that Blaine made, could somehow decipher the impurity of Blaine’s thoughts.

Blaine was not ashamed, but he was apprehensive.  Because this was _Kurt_.

They didn’t have sex for a _long_ time.  (Okay, for eight months—but Blaine was a teenage boy, so it was a _long_ time.)  Kurt wasn’t ready, and Blaine was scared.  He wasn’t scared of having sex, per se, but he was scared because it was sex and it was _Kurt_ , and that _meant_ something, and what if Blaine couldn’t control himself?  What if he got caught up in the moment and Kurt found out in the worst possible way?

Then they made love, and it was beautiful, and it was perfect (okay, yes, a little awkward), and it was completely vanilla, as far as Blaine could tell.

After that, Blaine relaxed, and he forgot about telling Kurt, because things were so nice the way they were that maybe Blaine didn’t need the rest after all.  Maybe he was normal now, or could pretend to be, and it would just go away. 

It helped that Kurt seemed to fall so naturally into letting Blaine take the reins, at least most of the time.  It was Blaine who usually initiated things in and out of the bedroom, Blaine who would sing to Kurt and say and do sweet things to make him blush and lead when they danced.  Kurt seemed to respond well to Blaine getting a little bossy when Kurt had had a hard day, to Blaine pressing him into the mattress with a bit more force, his words just on the respectful side of dirty and inching towards possessive.  It was enough.  Blaine tried to appreciate it and note it and not let it mean more than it did.

He was happy and in love and Kurt was his and… Kurt was going away.

To college.  In New York City.

Ever since Blaine had figured out he was a dominate, he’d thought of relationships in terms of what he could do for his partner, how they would be his and he would take care of them.  How they would need him, and he would always be there.  He’d never considered before that it might go both ways.  That he might need them too, and that they might, in their own way, take care of _him_.

Perhaps that’s why he was so clueless at first as to why the thought of Kurt leaving made him so sick inside.  It was natural, of course, that he would miss Kurt, that there would be some pain in the adjustment.  But he couldn’t explain the _dread_ , not to himself, and certainly not to Kurt.  It wasn’t like they were breaking up, wasn’t like they wouldn’t _make_ it.

It was puzzling, to say the least, when he finally figured it out.  That he needed Kurt, despite what unspoken roles he’d assigned them in his head.  He needed Kurt’s love, Kurt’s affection and concern and wit, needed Kurt in his arms and in his bed.  Kurt kept him grounded and gave his life purpose.  Kurt was his, and really, Kurt was all he had.

He figured out the last part far too late—that all the sacrifices he’d so gladly made for his relationship had left him with little else: no friends, an absent family, and few ambitions that were solely his own.  Blaine had no other place to belong; he only had Kurt.

And Kurt was already gone.


	4. Chapter 4

Cheating on Kurt was the stupidest thing Blaine had ever done.  He’d had a reason at the time, had the whole thing logically laid out in his head. 

If he didn’t know better, Blaine would swear he’d been either extremely high or exceedingly drunk the day he’d made _that_ particular judgment call.  It didn’t matter then, anyway, because Kurt had already been gone.  Not gone to New York, but gone from Blaine’s life.

Looking back on the messy path to their reunion, Blaine was grateful.  Not because he had cheated—he could _never_ be grateful for that, would never fully forgive himself.  Rather, he was grateful because of all the essential lessons he had learned that year—the importance of friends and family, the importance of paying attention to himself and his own needs (Blaine smiled as he heard Burt in his head: _you matter_ ), the importance of _Kurt_.  Because while there were so many good things in Blaine’s life, Kurt was _everything_.  Kurt was the most, and that was okay, and that was worth enduring any hardship.

Mostly he was grateful because his mistake had somehow ended with them together again, more solid than ever despite being more honest and open about the problems in their relationship and, consequently, arguing more about those problems.  And now—finally engaged and living together for about six months—Blaine thought it might be time to be truthful about something else.

Sex was different now.  When they broke up and everything was hell Blaine thought he’d never have it again: the perfect feeling of Kurt’s skin against his own, Kurt whimpering and begging and needing Blaine.  Blaine made himself okay with that because he didn’t deserve it, not anymore.  But then Kurt was his friend again and then, miraculously, Kurt _wanted_ him again, and Blaine had never wanted anything more in his life.  Kurt had been so _sexy_ , pulling Blaine into that room and onto that bed and taking him, and it was fantastic and it was Kurt and it wasn’t Blaine’s place to take anything from him, anyway.

When they’d gotten back together their sex life stayed that way for a long time.  It was too fragile, Blaine afraid to ask too much of Kurt, only happy that Kurt was his again and of course— _of_ _course_ —he was Kurt’s.  Blaine understood that now.  If things felt a little off, like they’d put all the pieces of the same puzzle together the wrong way, it wasn’t Blaine’s place to decide how to fix it.

Then college started again, and this time they were there together.  Kurt was a sophomore and the stress was racking up; this was Kurt, so naturally he tried to take on too much.  Blaine could tell that with everything going on, Kurt _needed_ it.  So he started pushing, just a little.  Pinning Kurt’s hands when he was fucking into him, issuing a well-meaning order here and there.  Kurt seemed to enjoy it and was always a bit more relaxed the next day. 

Blaine was doing it for himself, yes, but he was also doing it for Kurt.  He had always known—and time had proven—that he and Kurt were perfect for one another.  It was time to mind his instincts and call it what it was.

Kurt was falling apart before his eyes, and Blaine knew there was something he could do about it.  He just had to trust that and man up. 

He just had to figure out _how_.


	5. Chapter 5

“So,” Kurt said casually over dinner one evening.  For once he was fairly relaxed; one of his more difficult professors had caught the flu and thus canceled class for an entire _week_.  “You haven’t said yet what you want for your birthday.”

Blaine couldn’t help but grin down into his plate, hoping Kurt didn’t see.  “That’s because I want something really simple this year, and it won’t cost you anything, or take any effort to find it.”

Kurt scoffed.  “Really, Blaine?  You expect me to buy that from you?  Something mustbe off, because usually you’re dropping hints for months in advance about this bowtie or that sweater vest.  You’d better spill, or I’m going to get you a scarf.  A pretty, silk scarf.  With flowers.”

Blaine almost closed his eyes at the sudden vision appearing in his head—all the things he could do with a black silk scarf.  How the fabric would contrast so sweetly with Kurt’s pale skin, and perhaps one of vibrant flowers imprinted on it would match Kurt’s eyes or his blush…

He cleared his plate quickly, stealing glances at Kurt, pleased to note that he still held his fiancé’s attention.  Kurt seemed irritable, overtly desperate to know what was on Blaine’s mind but too stubbornly prideful to push.  When Blaine got up to carry his plate to the sink, Kurt’s eyes followed him.  This amused Blaine to no end, because he knew Kurt probably thought he was being subtle.

Stepping up behind him, Blaine slid his hands over Kurt’s shoulders and leaned down to whisper in his ear.  “All I really want for my birthday… is _you_.”

“What a line, Blaine Anderson!”  Kurt appeared indignant, but Blaine could see the smile he was trying to hide.

“Completely serious,” Blaine countered, making his way around the table with his palms held up in mock defeat.  “Did you clear the day?”

“Of course,” Kurt said.  “It wasn’t easy—the director threatened my part, but it’s too late in the game for them to find a replacement.  I’m all yours.”

“Great.”  Blaine smiled at him, this time genuine and open.  “We’ve got plans.”

Kurt lifted an eyebrow.  “Shouldn’t I be the one secretly plotting your big day?”

“Yes, well,” Blaine fought to keep a straight face, “maybe I just like it when you let me run the show.”

“I’m still getting you a scarf,” Kurt said obstinately.

Blaine met his eyes, still smiling.  “Make it black.”


	6. Chapter 6

The morning of his birthday (he was _20_ now, when did that happen?) Blaine was nervous, but also feeling confident.  His plan was set and he was fairly certain it would work.  He trusted, at the very least, that Kurt loved him enough not to take off running.

If nothing else came of this, after tonight it would be out there.  No more secrets.

They spent their morning at the zoo.  Blaine loved seeing the animals, and Kurt loved rolling his eyes at Blaine’s fawning over the animals and making disparaging comments about their behavior and appearance.  Altogether zoos were a beloved pastime for them both, but they hadn’t had the opportunity to visit one since moving to New York. 

The February weather had Blaine worried, but it was a warmer day for winter, and with the sun shining and both of them bundled in their coats, they soon forgot it was cold.  Kurt was happy and carefree in a way he hadn’t been in quite some time, constantly reminding Blaine to _slow down, we have all day_ , and Blaine could only smile because they _did._

They finished up at the zoo faster than Blaine had expected and bought lunch from a street vendor that looked questionable, but turned out to have fantastic food.  The afternoon was spent browsing the shops of nearby neighborhoods, after which they returned to their apartment to change, then went to dinner at Blaine’s favorite Italian restaurant.  Everything was perfect and simple and fun, and Blaine almost forgot his evening plans until the last bite of tiramisu was melting in his mouth.  Kurt’s fork clattered loudly against his plate, now empty of cheesecake.

“What’s next?” Kurt asked easily, and Blaine could feel his nerves returning to settle in his stomach as he forced a smile.

“Remember what I told you I wanted for my birthday?” he returned, hoping the words came out as confident and suggestive as he’d intended.

“Yes,” Kurt said, sounding breathless and looking more than a little wanton.  This was good.

Then Kurt smiled and pulled a box from his coat pocket, pushing it across the table.  “I got you this.”

Blaine wondered how he’d missed it, as it was large enough that it couldn’t possibly have been hidden completely from view.  He had an inkling of what it might be.

Carefully unfolding the wrapping and pulling off the lid, he peered into the box to find… a black scarf.  It was silk, and generously adorned with brightly-colored flowers.  It wasn’t exactly what Blaine had pictured, but it was close enough.  His stomach twisted with something entirely different than the anxiety he’d felt mere moments before.

Kurt was watching him, still smiling, eyes glittering.

“It’ll look gorgeous on you,” Blaine said honestly, enjoying the way Kurt’s eyes widened at his words.  “Let’s get out of here.”

And they went.


	7. Chapter 7

Blaine was grateful they’d taken the time to walk back to the apartment, because he desperately needed it to calm himself down.  While the overwhelming _want_ the scarf had incited would logically be desirable given what they were about to do, Blaine knew he needed to be careful and composed for this if it was to serve the purpose he intended.

The moment they stepped through the door Kurt’s mouth was on his, and Blaine allowed himself to get lost in it for a minute, Kurt still tasting sweetly of dessert and yet wholly of himself at the same time.  He pulled back, studying Kurt’s eyes.

“I have something special I want to do tonight.  I need you to trust me.”

“Blaine…” Kurt started, still dazed and clearly a little taken aback.  “I…”

“Do you trust me?” Blaine asked, stubbornly holding his gaze.

Kurt was silent for a time.  “Yes, I… of course, Blaine.”

“I need you to listen to me.  I won’t do anything new without asking you first, okay?  And any time you need to, you can just tell me to stop…”

“Okay, now I’m nervous.”  Kurt was trying to temper the statement with humor, but Blaine could tell he spoke truthfully.

“Don’t be,” Blaine said, smoothing his hands up and down Kurt’s arms.  “I’ll take care of everything.  I’ll take care of you.”

“Okay,” Kurt repeated, looking only somewhat less reluctant.  But Blaine could see the trust in his eyes—the little spark of lust and curiosity—and it was all he needed.

Blaine helped Kurt out of his coat before removing his own, took Kurt’s hand (and the box, his heart racing at just the thought of that _scarf_ ,) and led him into the bedroom.

He abandoned Kurt to stand in the middle of the room, seating himself on the edge of the bed.  Taking a deep breath, he raised his eyes to yet again meet Kurt’s.  “Strip.”

“Blaine, what…?”

“You said you’d listen,” Blaine reminded him.  “It’s nothing you haven’t done before.”

Kurt’s mouth snapped shut, his fingers moving to work open the buttons on his shirt.  Blaine watched him intently, his breath hitching at every new bit of skin revealed.  He hadn’t lied—they had done this before, both of them; it was such a simple thing.  But somehow Kurt doing it for _Blaine_ , because he had asked, because he had _commanded_ … it made it that much hotter. 

When Kurt was finally naked Blaine stood and went to him, unable to help himself.  He circled the other man first, taking him in and loving how Kurt just stood there, didn’t move, _let_ Blaine look.  Satisfied, he wound his arms around Kurt’s torso from behind, stepping flush against his back.  “You’re so beautiful,” he gushed, pressing his lips into the crook of Kurt’s neck before turning Kurt’s head to capture his mouth, kissing him long and deep and slow.

Kurt spun in Blaine’s arms, feeding into the kiss until they both needed to breathe.  “You’re wearing far too many clothes,” he teased, tugging Blaine’s shirt out of his belt.  “Let’s change that.”

“Not yet,” Blaine said, wrapping a hand around Kurt’s wrist to stop him, continuing when he saw Kurt’s mouth begin to open in protest.  “You’ll like it.”

“Okay,” Kurt exhaled.  He let Blaine back him up against the wall, take both his wrists and pin them there while he pressed into Kurt and kissed him again, working his way down the pale column of Kurt’s throat.

“I want you to suck me…” Blaine said between kisses.

“Yes,” Kurt murmured.  “ _God,_ anything…”

“…on your knees.”

Kurt pushed him away a little, looked at him with eyes _burning_ with lust, and began to sink down…

It was gorgeous and perfect and _everything_ Blaine could want, but… “Wait,” he stopped him.

Blaine pulled away, went to grab one of the larger decorative pillows from the bed and tossed it on the floor a foot or so away from the wall.  “Use this,” he said kindly.  “You might be down there awhile.”

Kurt stared at him for a moment before moving to comply, reaching a hand out for Blaine when he didn’t move forward.  “Blaine?”

Blaine took a deep breath, because this was the hard part, this was the new part.  He picked up the box he’d discarded on the bed and pulled out his new scarf.  Kurt still was watching him, Blaine noted, his eyes widening more each second.  Turning to fully face him, Blaine stepped closer.

“Kurt,” he said, voice faintly shaking, “let me tie your hands?”


	8. Chapter 8

For what seemed like forever, Kurt stared at him and didn’t speak.  There was an odd look in his eyes, something Blaine couldn’t read, and with each passing second Blaine could feel his confidence eroding.  “Kurt?” he said again, unable to bear the silence any longer.

Kurt nodded, so slowly and slightly that he barely moved at all.  But it was definitely a nod.

“Put your hands behind your back, please,” Blaine said, quiet but steady. 

Kurt did.

Blaine’s hands trembled as he wound the material around Kurt’s wrists as carefully and artfully as possible, but it wasn’t from nerves.  He couldn’t believe he was here, doing this with Kurt.  Kurt was a vision from years of fantasy, amplified immeasurably because this was _real life._

“You’re perfect, Kurt,” Blaine told him, finishing the knot and moving to face him, taking Kurt’s chin and lifting his head.  “So beautiful, I can’t…”

Kurt nuzzled into his palm, and Blaine had to close his eyes for a moment because everything was _so much._

“Is this still… is it?”  He couldn’t quite finish the question, but Kurt’s eyes locked with his, glazed over with desire in a way Blaine had rarely seen before, and he had his answer.

Clumsily, he fumbled with his belt and fly, stepping out of his jeans and boxers completely after a moment’s indecision.  He didn’t want to risk the ungainliness of his pants slowly sliding toward his ankles, or worse, his zipper scratching Kurt’s flawless mouth.

He was debating how to proceed, and that was crazy because this was something so simple; they’d done it a thousand times before.  But this time was different somehow (not somehow, Blaine _knew_ how,) and he didn’t know whether to press his cock against Kurt’s lips, or maybe order him to open his mouth, or…

It didn’t matter then, because Kurt was leaning forward, pink tongue peeking out to _lick_.

And that worked rather well too.

Blaine groaned and his hips stuttered forward, cock inching slowly into Kurt’s mouth and Kurt took it greedily, swallowing around him and sucking in more.  Blaine’s hands came up, winding into Kurt’s hair in a way that was rarely permitted.  He wondered how far he could push this, how much Kurt would take.  Kurt could take a lot under normal circumstances, had even mastered deep-throating after several months of trial and error.  But this was different, and Blaine had to be careful, had to find the right balance.

He tightened his fists in Kurt’s hair, pulling just a little, and Kurt moanedaround him, the vibration of his throat eliciting a sharp jolt of pleasure.  Blaine pushed in a bit further.

“You’re so good at this, sweetheart.  Look at you, taking it so well.  You love this, don’t you?”

He wasn’t expecting an answer, but Kurt hummed in assent.

“Fuck,” Blaine said.  So far he’d held still for the most part, but that was rapidly becoming more difficult.  “You okay if I move, baby?  If I fuck your pretty mouth?”

This time Kurt whined, high pitched and stifled, and Blaine was glad to hear it because he _had_ to move now, couldn’t keep still unless he stopped altogether.

He tried to keep his thrusts slow and even, gentle and easy, but Kurt did this so well—even without his hands—and it was like sinking into heaven every time, warm and wet and deliciously tight.  Blaine could tell Kurt was trying to suck harder, difficult as it was with his constant movement, and he felt a burst of affection rising up within him.

“So perfect,” he said in awe, untangling one hand to trace over Kurt’s cheek where it hollowed out.  “So good for me.”

Kurt’s eyes had been closed, but now they fluttered open, currently a pretty blue and so big, so _innocent_ , peering up at Blaine under the fan of his lashes.

“You okay baby?” Blaine asked.

Kurt blinked, hummed again, and Blaine couldn’t hold back anymore—he had to speed up.

He watched Kurt carefully, terrified that at any moment this could all go horribly wrong.  But it didn’t.  Kurt was still staring at him and Blaine was practically racing now and he was so, so close.

He told Kurt as much, the words buried in the litany of phrases pouring ceaselessly from his mouth, both his hands back in Kurt’s hair, fisted and holding him there.

Blaine came powerfully, endlessly, legs weak with the strength of his pleasure and certain that his grip on Kurt was all that kept him standing.  Kurt swallowed around him like a pro, licking at him long after he’d gone soft, until Blaine couldn’t help but pull away.  Sated, he sank to his knees, kissing Kurt’s face and smoothing his hair and tasting himself in Kurt’s mouth.

“So good, baby,” he assured him over and over again, hugging Kurt as he leaned into Blaine’s body, his face pressed against Blaine’s neck.  “You were amazing, Kurt.”

Blaine wasn’t sure how long they stayed there, several seconds or minutes, maybe, as he came down from his high.  Eventually the press of Kurt’s erection drew him out of it, his fiancé grinding unbidden into his thigh, and Blaine laughed.

“I guess it’s time I took care of that, huh?”

Kurt didn’t speak.  Maybe couldn’t speak, Blaine thought, but he whined loudly enough to make up for it.

“Come on, sweetheart,” he said, moving to grasp Kurt’s elbow and help him to stand.  “Let’s get you situated.”


	9. Chapter 9

Blaine guided Kurt to the bed, settling him on his stomach and giving him a moment to wriggle around until he was comfortable.   He climbed up to sit next to him, slid his fingers under the scarf and tugged a little.

“This still feel okay?” he asked, pausing a moment when Kurt didn’t respond.  “I need an answer, baby.”

“Yes,” Kurt said finally, simple and quiet and sounding not quite like himself, but it was the response Blaine needed.

“Good.  Are you comfortable?”

Another yes, and Blaine rubbed his hands across the backs of Kurt’s thighs, up over the smooth curve of his ass and down again.  “Can you put that pretty ass up for me, spread your legs?”  He accompanied the words with a gentle smack to Kurt’s hip.

Kurt didn’t answer, but his hips rose obediently, knees shuffling as his weight shifted into place.

“Good boy,” Blaine praised, pleased with his quick compliance.  Kurt whimpered.

Blaine took a moment to take in the sight of him, bared and spread, displayed and waiting there like an offering.  Just as he’d imagined, the black silk was a lovely contrast to Kurt’s skin, flawlessly pale but now flushed, drawing out the color of the scarf’s ornate flowers. 

Slowly, Blaine dragged a hand between Kurt’s legs, up to grasp and stoke his cock a few times then trailing down, groaning at the soft weight of Kurt’s balls in his hand as Kurt squirmed and shuddered.  It thrilled him, the tease of this, knowing how needy Kurt was and making him wait, letting the anticipation build.

Finally, he ran a finger between Kurt’s crack, the pucker of his hole soft and wrinkled and twitching at Blaine’s touch.  He paused there, maintaining only the barest of contact.

“Is this what you want, baby?” Blaine asked, loving Kurt’s desperate keen when he pulled his hand away completely.

Kurt writhed, his hips jerking in chase of Blaine’s touch.  “Please…” he breathed out, almost imperceptible and taking Blaine by surprise.

“Shh, no speaking.  Not yet.  Can you hold still for me, love?”

Again Kurt didn’t answer, but his movement halted, only the slightest tremble remaining as evidence of his effort.

“Thank you.”  Blaine smiled, bending over to kiss the small of Kurt’s back, then abandoned him there to take a seat at the edge of the bed.

It was as if time itself had stilled with Kurt’s body; there were no more sounds aside from the faintest intakes, outtakes of breath.  Seconds may have passed or minutes, Blaine wasn’t sure, but he knew it didn’t matter because _he_ would be the one who decided when it would start again.

Eventually his impatience grew too great, and Blaine crawled across the mattress, a gentle hand on Kurt’s hip the only warning he gave before he _licked_.  Kurt came alive in a moment, hips baring back to press himself further against Blaine’s mouth, his soft cries nearly muffled by his pillow.

Blaine pondered his options, thought about teasing him with little kitten licks, light and fleeting and all over the place and never quite right.

Then he went all out.

He licked deep and long and hard, tongue flat and sloppy.  He stiffened the muscle as best he could, fucking in and out of Kurt’s tight, clenching hole, working it open little by little while Kurt all but screamed, his hands twisting and clawing helplessly within the confines of the scarf.

Panting, Blaine pulled away after what must have been several long minutes, blew cold against the wet of Kurt’s ass when he could catch enough breath to do so.

“You doing alright, sweetheart?”

Kurt moaned and nodded, a dazed gesture with his face half-pressed into the damp material below.

Blaine smiled at the sight of him, leaning up to sweep sweaty strands of hair back from his face and press a gentle kiss to his cheek, falling back to his knees behind where Kurt’s own had slid out a little, still trembling and looking close to complete collapse.

In one smooth movement, Blaine sunk his middle finger deep.

It took no time at all to work Kurt up to two, but Blaine added lube at three just to be safe.  Kurt was whimpering, meeting his every thrust greedily, and it was exactly what Blaine had wanted, what he had pictured happening tonight.  He knew if he moved just right—if he merely said the words—Kurt would come for him in an instant.

He hadn’t planned for the flare-up of his own arousal, hadn’t thought to consider that he was only twenty, after all, but his body knew better and now it, too, selfishly wanted more attention.

“Do you want more, Kurt?” Blaine asked.

Kurt whined, shifting his hips back even harder to meet the next thrust, sweet and perfect and Blaine’s: Blaine’s to have and to take.

He shuffled around Kurt’s body and stretched out beside him, resting his head next to Kurt’s and inching close enough to kiss him long and deep.  Pulling back, he waited for Kurt’s eyes to flutter open—they were almost more green than blue in his haze of lust, speaking volumes in the simplest language of all when they locked with Blaine’s own.

And when Blaine had him…

“Beg.”


	10. Chapter 10

The jumbled pleas that poured from Kurt’s mouth were shocking—Blaine had heard quite a variety from him before while in the throes of desire, but nothing like this.  Kurt had never been quite _this_ far gone.

Resuming his previous position, Blaine replaced his fingers and hastened their movement, slipping in a fourth with only the slightest bit of resistance.

“Look at you take it,” Blaine muttered more to himself, watching in awe as Kurt’s opening expanded and contracted with each slide of his hand.  Even after years together, the intimacy of Kurt’s body spreading for _Blaine_ still captivated him every time. “But this isn’t what you want, is it?”

“Please…”

“Tell me, Kurt.  I want to hear you say it.”

“Want your cock,” Kurt mumbled.  “Please, Blaine.  Fuck me…”

“ _Baby_ ,” Blaine moaned, pulling away completely and reaching to hastily untie Kurt’s hands.  “You okay?” he whispered into Kurt’s ear when they were free, massaging his arms clumsily.

Kurt flexed, twisting out of Blaine’s grip.  “Yes.”

“Could you hold on to the headboard for me?  Yeah, sweetheart… just like that.  So good for me.”

He was on Kurt now, careful to support most of his own weight, tasting the sweat of Kurt’s neck and trailing his mouth and fingers across the pale expanse of his back.

“Don’t make me wait,” Kurt pleaded.  “I can’t…”

“Shh, I’ve got you…” 

Hands caressing Kurt’s hips and then gripping too tight, Blaine thrust in hard.

“Kurt,” he groaned, head hung, pounding into his fiancé’s ass.  This wasn’t going to last long at all and Blaine really didn’t care.  They almost never started out so forcefully, but this was different, this was new.  This time, Blaine wasn’t holding back.

“Tell me,” he said with some difficulty.  “Tell me if it’s too much.”

Kurt was writhing and making the most animalistic of noises, his hips jolting in attempt to work back in spite of Blaine’s vice-like grip, his knuckles white where he clutched the headboard.

“Fuck, baby…” Blaine was inching closer every second, even more rapidly than he had predicted.  Kurt was tight and hot and perfect but Blaine wanted— _needed_ —to feel the other man clenching around him when he came.

Reluctantly relinquishing his hold on one hip (he thrilled inside, because it was obvious there would be marks there—an imprint of Blaine himself, dark and beautiful against the white of Kurt’s skin,) Blaine slid his hand around Kurt’ body to pet at his stomach.  He could feel Kurt’s muscles quake, was tempted for a moment to linger there, wait for Kurt to come from the practiced angle of his cock alone. 

But patience, at this point, was an impossibility.

Taking a moment to slick his hand in the sweat of Kurt’s chest, he finally closed it around his fiancé’s shaft, stroking steady and sure.  “Come on, Kurt.”

It only took a few moments; Kurt was so strung out.  He sobbed as he came, Blaine releasing his hips to allow them to move, frantic and helpless under Blaine’s command of his body.

One more hard push into Kurt’s heat and Blaine was gone, following Kurt down as he collapsed onto the bed beneath him, biting into the pale flesh of Kurt’s shoulder in the daze of his orgasm.  Kurt didn’t seem to notice, panting and completely still now save for each desperate intake of breath. 

When Blaine was aware enough he rolled off of him, shucking the shirt that he was somehow still wearing before twining their hands together between them as their breathing began to slow.

After a time Kurt turned towards Blaine, seeking him out with eyes that were still a little glazed and scooting over to burrow against his body.  Blaine held him there, whispering words of praise and peppering his face with kisses as his hand smoothed soothingly through Kurt’s hair, down over his back and lower.

“Baby, we should really get you cleaned up…” he told Kurt gently, reluctant to abandon him in this state even long enough to grab a damp washcloth.

Kurt whined in protest, clutching feebly at Blaine’s shoulders and arms.

“Shh, it’s okay.  I’m coming right back, alright?”  Pressing one last kiss to Kurt’s forehead, Blaine pulled away to hurriedly gather the necessary supplies, returning to find Kurt curled into himself, hugging his knees against his chest.

“Hey, I’m back!  It’s okay.”  Kurt latched onto Blaine’s left arm while he did his best to clean them, wincing at the damp spot on the bed and deciding to pull the sheet up to cover it for the time being.  There was no way he was getting Kurt to move—not even long enough to change the sheets.

Finally, exhausted himself, Blaine turned off the lights and got them settled into bed, the space between their bodies nearly non-existent.  “You were wonderful tonight, sweetheart,” he said into Kurt’s hair, kissing the tip of his nose.  “Best birthday ever.  I love you so much.”

Kurt would have echoed the sentiment, Blaine knew, but he was already fast asleep.


	11. Chapter 11

Blaine woke the next morning and instinctively rolled over, expecting to collide with his fiancé’s warm body as he did most days.  Instead he landed flat on his back on Kurt’s pillow, the sheets stark and cool against his skin.  Slightly worried, he stretched and forced himself out of bed, wandering first into the kitchen and then to the living room.

Sure enough, Kurt was there—curled into himself and sitting with his back to Blaine at the window seat, staring out at the city.

“How are you feeling?” Blaine asked, approaching him carefully and gently twining his arms around Kurt’s body.

Kurt flinched away, the movement turning his face enough that Blaine could see that he’d been crying.  “Kurt?” he said, concern and fear rushing through him.

“Not right now, Blaine,” Kurt’s voice was cold.  “I need some time.”  He sniffled, wrapping his arms around himself and folding his body in even tighter.

“I don’t think that’s wise,” Blaine replied, trying to sound kind and firm at once.  “I think we need to talk about this.”

“I said not now!”  It was rare for Kurt to shout, and this time it came so suddenly and vehemently that Blaine found himself instinctively backing away.

He stopped.  He was so very tempted to give Kurt what he’d asked for, to walk away and try for later.  But something in him was screaming that letting this go would be a mistake.   Steeling his resolve, Blaine took a deep breath.

“I’m sorry, but this time that’s not an option,” he said evenly.  “We’re going to talk about this, and we’re going to talk about it now.”

He squeezed in next to Kurt on the tiny seat, facing away from him and waiting patiently, listening as Kurt’s breath hitched every few seconds. 

“I don’t even understand what happened,” Kurt finally spoke.  “I mean—I remember it all, but a lot of it is… it’s like I was under some sort of _fog_ , I…”

“There’s a word for that, you know,” Blaine offered softly.

Kurt closed his eyes.  “Please don’t say it.”

Reaching over, Blaine took his hand.  “What are you so afraid of, Kurt?”

As before, it took Kurt a few moments to speak.  “I know what this is.  I know what it is and it’s _not_ what I want to be.”

“Kurt…”

“No, Blaine, it’s… you don’t get it!  You get to be the strong one, and I’m the one who’s pathetic and weak!”

“Kurt, no, that’s not true!  You’ve got it wrong—that’s _all_ wrong.  Please, let me explain…”

Kurt shook his head, turning to face Blaine suddenly, his eyes wide and insistent.  “There’s nothing you can say, Blaine.  I’ve researched this; I know how it works.”

“I don’t know what you’ve read,” Blaine said calmly, privately surprised to learn he’d read anything at all, “but submissives are _not_ weak, and they’re certainly not pathetic.”

Kurt winced at the word, pulling his hand from Blaine’s grip.  “I’m not a ‘submissive’.  I won’t be.  You can’t make me into one just because it’s what _you_ want.”

Blaine opened his mouth then closed it again, uncertain where to take this next.  It would be a gamble, but… “If this is all about me, and not about you, then why do you seem to know about it?  Why would you feel the need to do research?”

“There’s nothing wrong with what you are, Kurt.  There’s nothing wrong with what _we_ are.  I’m not going to sit around and let you suffer when I know this is something you need, is something that _helps_.”  He stood, and the movement seemed to surprise Kurt, his head whirling around to stare at Blaine in confusion.  “I’ll give you the time you asked for now.  Come find me when you’re through with denial.”

With those parting words, Blaine made himself turn and walk away.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really love this chapter, because it's where we get into the character exploration behind the roles I've assigned them... and a lot of Blaine's stuff sounds an awful lot like sub traits. And we know that, and see it in canon, but it was so fun to take it in a different direction here, and I do hope it makes sense.

It took a few hours, and frankly Blaine was surprised it didn’t take longer.  He was eating a slice of store-bought frozen pizza (which Kurt hated) on the couch (which Kurt also hated—not the couch, but Blaine eating on it) and watching reruns of Full House (which he and Kurt both loved) when Kurt settled next to him, tugging down the blanket that was pinned behind Blaine’s back and curling up in it with his head on Blaine’s shoulder.  He didn’t speak, so Blaine finished his pizza and continued watching until the episode was over, laughing half-heartedly at all the appropriate times even though Kurt didn’t. 

He wiped his hands on one of those ridiculous individually packaged wet-wipes (watermelon scented!) that Kurt liked to buy, then hit the off button on the remote.  While it was fun to stretch the rules a bit at times and see what he could get away with, Blaine knew Kurt’s limits and he _did not_ have a death wish.  Snuggling contentedly against his fiancé’s body, Blaine waited.

“Can I tell you a story?” Kurt finally broke the silence.

Blaine’s brows quirked—that wasn’t quite what he had expected to hear.  “Of course,” he said immediately, intrigued to learn where this would go.

“I guess it’s not a story, really, but… it might explain some things.”  He paused, reaching out to take Blaine’s hand and staring down at it while he played with Blaine’s fingers.  “My mom was a real classy lady, you know?  You wouldn’t think it, knowing my dad, but they were a great example of the whole ‘opposites attract.’ She was kind of like June Cleaver, or at least that’s what I remember.  She always liked to look her best, even if there was no reason for it.  She loved to cook, and she knew both dad’s and my favorites and would make each on a designated night every week.  Our house was always clean with just the right amount of clutter, and it always smelled like a flower shop.  She really liked it to be that way.”

He paused for a moment, and Blaine wrapped an arm around his shoulders, cuddling him closer.

“I think it caught both my parents by surprise when I started taking after her instead of dad, but that’s neither here nor there.  It’s just—she had this apron she always wore, these habits where we’d all sit down for dinner and I’d help her bring the food in and she would serve us—like, actually put the food on our plates—before sitting down to get her own.  That’s the way she liked to do it.  I used to organize tea parties for the three of us—or just for me and dad, after she died—and I’d do everything the same way.  I’d pour the tea and I’d serve the cakes.

“The point is, I guess at that age that’s what I always pictured I’d be when I grew up.  Not a housewife, per se—mom had a part time job and she was certainly no pushover.  But I had this vision of my adult self, always picture perfect and puttering around to make things just so.  And my partner—I think I pictured another man, even then—he would be like my dad was.  Dad was always so happy with everything she did, and he was very vocal about it.  They were happy.”

Blaine had gotten so caught up in Kurt’s words that he hadn’t realized the other man was finally looking at him, but when Kurt stopped talking and their eyes met there were tears in Kurt’s, and he was trying to blink them away. 

“Sweetheart, that’s…” Blaine began, squeezing Kurt’s hand.

“I’m not finished,” Kurt interrupted him.

Blaine just nodded.  Kurt didn’t immediately launch back in, but it seemed to Blaine that even the gentle _it’s okay, go on_ he was tempted to offer would be a violation somehow.

“I was never popular as a child, or at least not among my peers.  I don’t need to tell you why.  But when I was in third grade, there was this girl who was new at school and for some reason wanted to be my friend—Nicole, her name was Nicole.

“It was… I guess you could say we sort of fell into these patterns.  We played those ‘pretend’ games a lot; you know the ones I mean.  She would always pick the role she wanted first, and usually I was whichever role was smaller, or I got stuck being bossed around.  I know that sounds awful, but I loved it.  I loved acting, of course, but I liked making her happy too, and following orders just came naturally to me.  I never really questioned it, not at that age.

“Eventually it moved into other parts of our friendship.  I can’t really explain it, just… if we were together and something needed fetching, I was the one that fetched it.  She’d ask me to do little favors all the time.  I don’t think either of us understood what was going on, or even did it consciously, but it was one of the best friendships I’ve ever had...”

Kurt trailed off, and Blaine could tell it was because he’d reached something difficult.  “What happened?” he prompted softly when too much time seemed to pass.

“The summer after fourth grade she had an older cousin who came to visit.  I think he was twelve, somewhere around there.  Somehow he… picked up on the dynamics of our friendship.  He started doing it too.  He was really nice every time he’d ask me for something, so I never thought anything of it.  Nicole seemed annoyed but didn’t really say anything.”

Kurt stopped to take a deep breath, gripping Blaine’s hand a little tighter.  “Then one day, we had agreed to meet at the park.  It was a nice day so it was pretty crowded, and it was small-town Ohio so everyone had just dumped their stuff everywhere without a thought to security.  When I got there, Nicole and Demion were waiting for me.  We played around for a little bit and then the ice cream truck came, and we all wanted some, of course.  Demion asked me to go get his wallet out of his backpack, pointing one out, so naturally I did as I was told.” 

Kurt squeezed his eyes shut.

“It wasn’t even hidden, just shoved into a mesh pocket in the front, and I didn’t think anything of it.  I got it and he bought all of us ice cream.  As soon as we’d eaten it he said he had to go, and we said we’d be fine on our own.  It was only a few minutes after he left that I saw a man, two children in tow, approaching the backpack.  He seemed really distraught, and at first I didn’t want to believe it.  Nicole looked horrified, too, and he… he came right up to us, asked if we’d seen a wallet anywhere.  I just froze but Nicole shook her head, and I didn’t know what to do, so as soon as he turned away I ran…”

“It wasn’t your fault, Kurt.  You didn’t know.”

“I was stupid and gullible and… I don’t think I’ve ever felt so horribly about anything in my life.”

“What happened after that?”

Kurt shook his head, again looking down at their hands.  “I never spoke to her again.  She tried, but I just ignored it.  We were in different classes for fifth grade and she disappeared after that, probably moved away.  I don’t know.  It wasn’t really fair to her, but I just _couldn’t_.  The way I’d been… it had always made people so happy, before, but I knew I had to change.  That was the last time I complied with anybody other than my parents or teachers.  It made it even harder in middle school, as you can imagine, because I was so suspicious of everyone.  Eventually the bullying picked up, and I was a whole mess of friendlessness until Glee.  But I had decided that I would live for myself, do things for myself, and be happy by myself.  I didn’t want to need other people anymore.”

“So you just… shut that part of yourself off?”

Kurt nodded.  “Yeah.  I guess I’m pretty good at that, as you’ve seen in the past.  Shutting things away…”

“That didn’t hurt you?”

“I thought it would hurt more not to.  I didn’t know it was possible to be so… helpful and accommodating, I guess.  Not without people taking advantage of you.  Not until I met you.”

“Me?”  Blaine was surprised and a little confused.  “You know I would _never_ do that to you, baby, I…”

“No, that’s not what I meant,” Kurt cut him off.  “I mean, you… well, you’re kind of like that too, Blaine.  You’re a people-pleaser.  And I don’t understand how you can still be like that, and it hasn’t gotten to you, and the world hasn’t killed it, and…”

“Stop,” Blaine said sternly when Kurt began to rant.  He took a deep breath, trying to think his way through this, because he hadn’t thought of any of it before, but Kurt had a point.  “I guess you’re right that we have that in common,” he conceded at last, “but it’s not the same.  It manifests itself differently, and it comes from different places.”

Blaine sighed, enveloping Kurt’s hand in both of his.  “Kurt,” he looked into his fiancé’s eyes, “your desire to please people, to make them happy, comes from a place of true caring.  I’ve said it before—you are one of the most compassionate people I’ve ever met, and it’s part of why I love you so much.  You care because it comes naturally to you, and because you’ve had some wonderful examples of that in your life.  I hate more than anything that somebody took advantage of that, that somebody took that from you.”

When Kurt didn’t protest, he continued.

“I’m different.  I like to please people, yes, but it’s because I need acceptance and I need to be good enough.  It’s because I was never good enough for my parents or my brother, and so I’ve always tried my hardest to find that in other places.  But being good enough for you—taking care of you— _that’_ s the most important and precious thing I’ve had in my life.  It means the world to me every time you say you’re proud.”

Blaine’s voice cracked on the last sentence, and he saw that Kurt was blinking back tears.  “That’s why I want us to do this—because it’s something you need, and it’s something I need, and there’s nothing wrong with that.  It’s another way that we can be good together, and it makes me so happy that we fit this way.  I don’t want you to ever, _ever_ be ashamed.”

Kurt lifted their joined hands, brushing a kiss across Blaine’s knuckles before nuzzling his cheek against Blaine’s skin.  “I want to, I just… it’s hard for me to trust, being that.  I feel so… so _vulnerable_ … and I don’t want anyone to see, to know…”

“I’m not anyone,” Blaine said sincerely.  “I’m just Blaine.”

Kurt smiled, watery but beautiful, and Blaine knew that he’d managed to find the perfect thing to say. 

“Okay,” Kurt whispered after a moment.

“Okay?” Blaine was unable to mask the excitement in his voice, unable to believe it was this easy after the chaos of the morning.

“Yes,” Kurt repeated.  “We can talk about it.  We can… try.”

Blaine beamed at him.  “I love trying things with you.”

Kurt leaned forward, kissed him softly then pressed their foreheads together.  “I just love you.”


	13. Chapter 13

They decided to wait a few days to discuss the details, as both men felt the day had been heavy enough without trying to negotiate this new aspect of their relationship.  Schedules were tight during the week, but they made tentative plans for Wednesday evening, when (for once) Kurt wasn’t expected to be at rehearsal, and Blaine wasn’t scheduled to work his part-time job.

It still felt like a miracle when they sat down together in the living room, bellies full and steaming mugs of coffee close at hand.  Blaine dug around in his messenger bag for a notebook and pencil, wanting to write down anything important they decided.  While he possessed a reasonable amount of confidence in both his memory and ability to act wisely as a Dom, this felt too big to take chances on.

“You’re taking notes?” Kurt asked.

“I think it’s in our best interest.”

“It just feels a little… formal, I guess.”

“It doesn’t have to be.  Whatever you want.  I’d just feel better writing things down for now, if that’s okay?”  Seeing Kurt nod, Blaine cleared his throat.  “Would you like this… arrangement… to be more informal to begin with?”

“I…” Kurt was clearly fumbling for the right words.  “It’s still not easy.  Maybe for a while, until we get used to it, we could just leave this as-needed?”

“Of course,” Blaine said.  “If that’s what you’re comfortable with.  I wasn’t expecting anything more than that.”

“Good.”  Kurt looked like he was trying to smile but didn’t quite manage it.  He seemed nervous, flighty, and Blaine wished for a moment there was something he could do about it before it occurred to him that maybe there was.  “Come here?” he suggested, shifting his notebook around so that one side of his body was free for Kurt to snuggle against.

After Kurt had done so, he sighed.  “I wish this wasn’t so hard.  Or so uncomfortable.  I don’t like feeling awkward with you.”

“I don’t like it either,” Blaine concurred, pressing a kiss to the top of Kurt’s head.  “I’d like to tell you it doesn’t have to be—and of course it doesn’t—but I know this stuff doesn’t always come easily.  What I _can_ promise is that we’ll muddle through it together.”

Kurt did smile at that, tilting his head up to accept a kiss on the lips.  “So,” he said after a moment.  “How do we… how do we know when…”

“I can usually sense when you need it.  But if I don’t, you can always just tell me.  I’m always here for you, Kurt.”

“I don’t know if I’d be comfortable just saying it…”

Blaine looked down, found Kurt’s hand where it was pressed against his chest and began absentmindedly playing with his fingers.  “We could use a piece of jewelry, if you’d like?  Maybe a bracelet?” 

He held his breath in anticipation of Kurt’s response, because his traitorous mind kept whispering _collar_ , and he hoped Kurt wasn’t thinking that (and freaking out about it) as well.  It would be far too much, too soon.

“I guess that could work,” Kurt said finally.  Blaine exhaled heavily, relieved.

“We can look for something you like online, if you want,” he told Kurt.  “Or go shopping?”

Kurt beamed.  “Shopping would be great, if we can find the time!  Just don’t expect me to come out of it with only a bracelet.”

Blaine chuckled.  “I would never!”

It was nice to find a moment of light-heartedness, but Blaine knew it wouldn’t last under the current circumstances.  “So, umm, we should probably move on…”

“What else is there?”  At least Kurt didn’t sound so apprehensive anymore, and Blaine allowed himself to hope for a moment that their conversation might continue a bit more smoothly.

“Well,” he started, “the main things are… boundaries.  Safewords.  Rules, and we need to decide if this is staying in the bedroom or… not,” Blaine finished lamely.

He felt Kurt tense in his arms and worried for a moment that he might have pushed too far, but then Kurt relaxed again.  “Maybe we should start with the last one?”

“Umm, okay…” Blaine was a little surprised he’d chosen that, a little concerned because it was the area _he_ felt most nervous about, most out of depth.  “How do you feel about that?”

Kurt turned his head to look at him, then looked away again and blushed.  “We never really said if this was… sexual for me or not, but I guess you’ve seen through experience that it is.  I… was never especially comfortable with that part of me, and you know how I feel about porn…”

Blaine smiled to himself, because even today, as far as they’d come together, porn made Kurt a little squeamish.

“…but I can’t say that my, umm, my _fantasy_ life has been completely vanilla, even at the very start.  I…”

“Kurt,” Blaine stopped him.  “As cute as it is to see you bumbling, right now what I’d like to know is if you’d like anything _outside_ of the sexual.”

“Oh.”  Kurt flushed impossibly deeper, but he carried on.  “I was getting to that.  I, umm… yes?  It’s just… it calms me down a lot sometimes, when you give me orders.  When I’m stressed out and you know I’ll just keep going and it will get worse if someone doesn’t make me stop…”

“Shh, I know; it’s okay,” Blaine assured him, taking a moment to squeeze Kurt a little closer, his hand rubbing gentle circles into Kurt’s hip.  “So, orders are good… when you’re wearing the bracelet?  Or when I think it’s necessary.”

“Yes,” Kurt verified, voice soft.  “But not… not all the time.”

“That’s fine, Kurt.”  He paused to write it down.  “Anything else?”

“You said something about rules…” Kurt said tentatively.

“Well, some couples like to establish a set routine, or rules for the sub to follow.  I don’t think we’re ready for that, or that you need it?”  He looked at Kurt, waiting to see him shake his head in confirmation. 

That decided, Blaine mentally advanced through his list, faltering a little when it occurred to him what was next.  “Then there’s… well, there’s punishment.”

“What?”

“Punishment,” Blaine repeated, this time too loud.

“Oh.”  Kurt spoke in a voice that implied both that he had never considered punishment before and that he was slightly fearful of it.  “I… I don’t think that’s something I need.  Or want.  Not right now.”

“That’s good,” Blaine said in a rush, relieved.  “That’s something that… well, if you needed it, I’d try but… I’m not sure I could handle that either, not right now.”

“Good,” Kurt echoed.

“So, ummm…” Blaine glanced at his paper, though he’d written very little.  “So far, we’ve agreed—scenes and orders, when you need them or ask, and we’ll start with that.”

“You can ask too, you know,” Kurt said a little shyly.

“That’s“—Blaine wasn’t expecting it, didn’t know if that was something he’d ever need or want to do, but it was nice having the option—“thank you,” he finally finished.  He looked back down at Kurt to find him smiling.

“Next,” Kurt prompted sweetly.

“Right... what is next?  How about… a safeword?”

Kurt grimaced.  “Do we really need one?  Can’t I just tell you to stop, like last night?”

“I’d really feel better if we had one,” Blaine pressed.  “I want you to feel safe.”

“Okay, ummm… it can be anything?”

“Something that isn’t likely to be said normally during sex, but yes.  Anything you like.”

They were silent for a moment, Kurt looking thoughtful.  “How about “blackbird”?  I want it to be something meaningful for us, if I’m going to have to say it.”

“Hopefully you won’t have to say it,” Blaine said, even though he knew the chances of it happening at some point during the long course of their relationship were good.  He scooted down in his seat until his face was right next to Kurt’s, nuzzling into his fiancé’s neck and kissing him there.  “But you’re right; it is meaningful.  I like it.  Yes.”

Kurt giggled.  “Okay then, that’s settled… what’s left?”

Blaine again considered his notebook, happy to see that while the page with still half-bare, they’d covered a decent amount of ground.  Then he frowned.  There was only one major thing left…

“Just boundaries.  Or, you know… sexual limits.”


	14. Chapter 14

Kurt sucked in his breath sharply beside Blaine, and it was the only sound between them for several long moments.  Finally, Blaine cleared his throat.

“Would you like to start with the things we like, or things we don’t like?”

“Things we don’t like?” Kurt suggested.  “I mean, I guess those would be easier to come up with… although there are things out there that are so much out of the question that I feel ridiculous even _mentioning_ them…”

“Yeah,” Blaine said, sensing Kurt’s hesitancy.  “Maybe things we do like after all, then?  Why don’t we start with things we’ve already tried?”

“Sure,” Kurt said.  But then he fell silent.

“I’m guessing, I mean… you seemed to like last night?  Me tying you up?”  Blaine was beginning to see that if this conversation was going to happen, he was going to have to push a little.

Kurt blushed.  “Yeah, I…”

“What?  Kurt, you can tell me anything.”

“It’s something I’ve thought about before...” he confessed eventually, not meeting Blaine’s eyes.

“Oh.”  Even though Kurt had already admitted to having some… _kinkier_ fantasies, for lack of a better word, Blaine was still a bit surprised by his admission.  (And secretly so, so thrilled—he could literally feel a chill run through him the moment he processed Kurt’s words).  This was, after all, the boy who had been afraid to look at porn.  Who _still_ didn’t particularly care to look at porn.  “So that’s something you’ve… been interested in?”  He tried to choose his words carefully.  “Even before me?”

Kurt looked down at his hands, distancing himself even further, but he nodded.  “I… freaked out about it, for a long time.  I wasn’t that comfortable with myself sexually to begin with, and then when my thoughts would start to drift towards… _that_ … I was so ashamed.  I think I knew that it was related somehow, to the other stuff, and I didn’t want it.  I tried not to think about it.  I tried not to masturbate at all, really, for the longest time, and then I would give in and I would have to fight to keep my thoughts straight“—he broke off with a laugh, Blaine’s own face lighting with a smile at the slip-up.  “Well, maybe _straight_ is not the best word for it, just… I tried not to think about those things, but my mind would go there anyway.  And then when I did try to look at porn, and I stumbled across it, it was all wrong and it scared me even more…”

“Kurt, you know it doesn’t have to be like that,” Blaine assured him, taking Kurt’s hand in both of his and squeezing it lightly, at last coaxing Kurt to meet his eyes.  “This doesn’t have to be anything you, or we, don’t want.  This is a good thing, and we’ll build it together into something that makes us both happy.”

Kurt smiled at him, his eyes a little misty.  “Why are you so sweet to me?  I’m such a bitch sometimes; I don’t deserve it.”

“Hey now,” Blaine stopped him.  “You’re hardly ever a bitch to me.  And I think you deserve the world, because I love you.”

“So you’re admitting that you’re biased?”  Kurt taunted.

“Doesn’t matter,” Blaine said amiably.  “I’m the Dom, so _I_ get to decide what you deserve.”

They both froze, the meaning of Blaine’s casual quip fully registering.  Had he gone too far?  “Kurt, I…”

“You’re _my_ Dom,” Kurt said, tilting forward so their foreheads were pressed together, eyes locked and breath mingling.

Blaine blinked against the sudden, unexpected well of his own tears.  “All yours,” he promised.

They fell quiet, their eyes communicating everything that was too much to put into words.

“Well,” Kurt said when the moment had passed, voice heavy with forced confidence, hand gripping Blaine’s too tightly.  “I do like it when _my_ Dom ties me up.  And I liked all the pet names you called me last night—but not in public, Blaine Anderson, or I’m putting you over _my_ lap.  I like being under you… just, you know, your weight on me,” he shrugged, looking away now as his bravery began to falter.  “I… I like being on my knees,” he said more softly.

“That’s good,” Blaine squeezed his hand.  “That’s all good, Kurt, I like those things too.”

“When you… restrain me,” Kurt continued.  “I like the scarves, I like... how the material feels.  I don’t think I’d like anything harsher.  No… rope, or metal, or anything like that…”

“Okay,” Blaine said, pulling his hands away to resume taking notes.  When he was finished he looked up, finding Kurt’s eyes once more.  “That feels right for us, anyways.  I’ve always thought you were more suited to… finer things.  Pretty things.”

“Yes,” Kurt sounded breathless, his cheeks flushing for the umpteenth time.  “I think we could try… more things like that.”

Blaine felt his face heating up too, and he hoped he wasn’t reading too much into things as he wrote ‘lingerie’ in the good column, but Kurt could see what he was doing and made no further comment.

“Is there anything else?” Blaine prompted after a few moments of silence.

“I don’t really know about much else,” Kurt confessed.  “I haven’t exactly been open to researching the more physical aspect of all of this.”

Blaine nodded.  It made sense.  “I think we should definitely stick to the softer stuff for now.  How do you feel about blindfolds?  Or gags?”

Kurt swallowed audibly.  “I, umm… I think blindfolds might be nice.  Just, not leading me around a whole lot or anything crazy…”

“Of course not,” Blaine interrupted.

“As for gags… I could be okay with it, but… nothing that affects my breathing.  There was this time at the pool when I was around eleven, and my dad left to go to the restroom, and these boys from my class… they came out of nowhere all at once, and I thought they were going to drown me.  The lifeguard either didn’t notice or didn’t care.”

“Kurt, that’s awful!”  He began writing ‘breathplay’ in the no column, using all capitals.

Kurt shrugged.  “It just scares me, not being able to breathe.”

“No wonder,” Blaine muttered, pressing his pencil so hard into the paper as he tried to finish the word that the tip broke off.  “Damn it!”

“Do you think that’s enough?” Kurt asked.  “At least to start off with?”

“We can work a lot of it out as we go,” Blaine told him.  Kurt’s hand was suddenly back in his, and Blaine smoothed his thumb over his fiancé’s skin, so grateful to be here with him, talking like this.  “I just want you to be comfortable, so I can be comfortable.”

“Now why does that sound familiar…” Kurt’s grin was impish, and Blaine couldn’t help but smile in return.

“I’ve got an idea,” he announced, tugging Kurt up off the couch with their joined hands and pulling him along as he headed for the bedroom.

“What?”  Kurt questioned, confused but giggling.  “Blaine!”

He stopped when they got there, wrapping his arms around Kurt as they stood beside the bed.  “Now that we have this stuff worked out, why don’t we practice?”

Kurt’s face dipped into a frown of contemplation, clearly caught-off guard, but Blaine could feel his own eyes glittering.  “Okay,” Kurt said finally, sounding reluctant but content.  “What do you want?”

Blaine took his mouth, lingering there briefly and then trailing kisses along Kurt’s jaw and up to his ear, nibbling at Kurt’s earlobe before breathing hot into it:

“Let me make love to you.”

Kurt’s smile lit up his face, and Blaine basked in the moment—marveling at the strength of their newfound connection, delighting in their shared joy.


	15. Epilogue

Kurt couldn't believe it had been a year.  A year since their wedding day.  A year since they signed an official contract.

It was always so overwhelming, when Kurt took a moment to reflect on how far they had come.  They’d been through so much together: as friends, as partners, as lovers, as Dom and sub, as husbands.  Their relationship hadn't always been easy—at times, it had even been devastating—but from the very first day they met, Blaine had been a steady presence in Kurt’s life, his love unwavering, Kurt suspected, long before Blaine acknowledged the way that he felt.

If someone had told Kurt in his early teens that he would someday have a relationship like this, he would have laughed or maybe even cried.  He would have argued that a love so true didn’t exist, that the world was too imperfect—that Kurt himself was too imperfect and undeserving of such a gift.  Now, each day they passed together was one to cherish, as Kurt knew with every fiber of his being how much Blaine cherished him.

Blaine pushed him when he was too afraid to move.  Blaine calmed him, grounded him, when the world or his own drive for perfection became too much.  Blaine covered Kurt, marked him, punished him, made him feel protected and owned and safe. 

Blaine saw Kurt, every part of him, and Blaine loved him unconditionally.  Kurt was certain Blaine’s presence in his life would never stop feeling like a miracle.

As first anniversaries go, today had been positively perfect.  They’d passed the time in celebration—cuddling into the late morning, eating lunch out and then hitting a matinee, enjoying a commemorative trip to the zoo where they overloaded on greasy street food and giant ice cream cones.  Kurt was happy and giggly, on cloud nine the entire time, but deep down he was waiting.  Waiting for the moment they would finally return home, when Blaine would fasten his new collar around his neck before they played.

Blaine had “surprised” him with it this morning (okay, so Kurt had suspected, but he wasn't about to let on.  He wasn't an actor of off-Broadway fame for nothing!)  What was truly a shock—the kind of shock that left him breathless in awe—was how utterly perfect the collar was.  Kurt didn't know what he had expected—black leather, maybe, or silk if Blaine was smart.  This was something else entirely, something Kurt knew instantly was designed especially for him.

It was satin on the outside, lined on the inside with a soft grey suede.  The color was light, muted but pretty—the exact shade of Kurt’s eyes when they were at their bluest.  Tiny diamond hearts studded around the band, and a heart-shaped plate hung daintily from the middle that simply read _Precious One_.  On the inside, engraved in delicate cursive where it would rest directly over Kurt’s pulse, was Blaine’s name.

Kurt’s heart had melted when he first saw it, even as it sped with the promise of all that was to come.  He was so close to begging Blaine to put it on him now, now!  But Blaine already had plans for the evening, had whispered them low into Kurt’s ear.  And now the evening was finally here.

Their living room set had been a wedding gift from Blaine’s parents.  Kurt had initially been wary of it—fully prepared for a return if he hated it or it clashed with the new house, and damn their feelings—but to his surprise he fell in love with the furniture immediately.  It was comfortable and stylish, subdued enough to work into his own vision but fashionable enough to make a statement.  Most importantly, it had been easy to modify to suit their more… _unique_ needs.

Kurt’s mind was racing as Blaine laid him out on the couch, removed his clothing and lavished him in kisses; he wondered where this might be going.  Blaine’s whispers this morning had been enticing but vague.  Soon, though—soon he would feel Blaine’s collar around his throat, and Blaine would take him under, and it wouldn't matter to Kurt what Blaine had planned.  Kurt wouldn't need to think anymore, only obey.

“Blaine, my collar,” Kurt said breathily as Blaine’s mouth worked its way between his legs.  “Please…”

Blaine raised his head to consider him, eyes feral and sparkling, and nodded.  Kurt watched, heart racing, as he lifted the collar from its box on the side table.  The sight stirred something within him and he rose unprompted, sinking to his knees on the soft carpet, head tilted up as instinct screamed at him to bare his throat.

When Blaine saw him he smiled, dropped to the floor and greedily attacked Kurt’s neck with lips, teeth, and tongue.  There would be marks, Kurt thought.  Normally Blaine wasn't allowed to leave marks because they were a pain to cover and wouldn’t do for Kurt’s career, but for tonight Kurt would happily make an exception.

Satisfied, Blaine pulled away after one last affectionate nuzzle.  The anticipation was heavy between them, and Blaine’s fingers fumbled as he finally brought the material up and fastened it snug around Kurt’s skin, checking the fit before leaning back and staring.

“Wow, Kurt,” Blaine said, and Kurt couldn’t help but preen.  “Does it feel okay?”

“It’s perfect,” Kurt assured him, struggling not to get lost in the dizzy rush of ownership the collar had ignited… not yet, anyway.

“You’re beautiful, baby,” Kurt noted the darkening of Blaine’s eyes, minute cues he’d learned to read well over the past few years.  “I wish I could take a picture.”

“Another time,” Kurt said, feeling himself sinking.  “I can’t wait right now.”

“You’ll wait if I tell you to.” Blaine’s voice was quiet and steady and sure, commanding but forever laced with affection.  Kurt’s world narrowed, void but for the voice and body before him.

He felt arms lifting him, wound his own around Blaine’s neck.  Then the soft material of the chair was beneath him, up against his back.  His legs were being bound, and he moved his arms in line with those of the chair automatically.

“No, sweetheart,” the voice said.  “Not this time.”  Kurt let them relax at his sides.

“Are you comfortable?”

“Yes.”

“Good.”  There were hands on his face, stroking gently.  He turned into the touch, eyes fluttering closed, but was firmly redirected, a grip on his chin facing him forward.  “Open your eyes, Precious One.  I want you to watch me.”

Kurt’s eyes blinked open and there was Blaine, only Blaine, his hands teasing his own body as he slowly stripped out of his clothing.  The sight immediately captured all of Kurt’s attention—it would have even without the order.  Kurt had put on this kind of show for Blaine a thousand times, but Blaine, for all his sexual confidence, had never once done the same.  Until now.

No matter how many years they spent together, no matter how old they got, Kurt was certain he would never grow tired of his husband’s body.  Blaine possessed a sort of organic sensuality that Kurt could never hope to copy.  It was evident in his every movement, but Kurt cherished most of all that he was the only one who got to experience Blaine at full force—golden, naked skin, smooth-muscled and adorned with an enticing smattering of dark hair.  His weight fluctuated often, but not a lot.  Kurt loved Blaine with a gentle hint of abs, loved him with the softest round of tummy.  Kurt loved Blaine.

And oh, the way the man moved!  Blaine was down to almost nothing now, and Kurt was painfully aware of his own arousal in a way he almost never was, used to ignoring his own body’s needs until Blaine decided they were a priority.

Finally, Blaine was naked and coming towards him, climbing over Kurt’s lap to settle on his knees.  “Don’t move,” Blaine told him, reaching over to grab a bottle of lube from behind the table lamp.

Blaine slicked his fingers slowly, deliberately, and Kurt was completely mesmerized.  He was unprepared for Blaine’s lips against his, not quite sure how they got there, but kissed him back with every bit of pent-up passion he was feeling.  Then as suddenly as they came they were gone, and Blaine was pivoting in Kurt’s lap, turning completely around and leaning over and reaching back and…

Kurt looked on eagerly as Blaine spread his cheeks and began fingering his ass.  His own hands tensed, relaxed.  Kurt had never struggled this laboriously to follow an order; right now he wanted so badly to touch he could scream.

“Maître!” he called out, voice broken.  “Maître, _please_ …”

But Blaine merely worked in a second finger, looked back over his shoulder and smirked.  “So warm and tight in here, baby.  Gonna feel so good around your cock…” he broke off with a groan, Kurt watching helplessly as he twisted his fingers.

Kurt continued begging, fully knowing it was hopeless, his words often dwindling into whines and whimpers that might have embarrassed him were he not so far gone.  Finally, three fingers in, Blaine pulled his hand away and grappled for Kurt’s cock, slicking it before positioning himself, sinking down onto Kurt in a single fluid motion.

They cried out as one, the sudden heat and pressure so overwhelming that Kurt nearly came on the spot. 

“Touch me,” Blaine ground out, an order and a plea.  Kurt’s hands were on him in an instant, moving desperately over Blaine’s sweat-slick thighs, his stomach and his chest, thankful at least for this small mercy.  Blaine’s own hands were holding fast to the chair arms, his body propelling up and down at a pace Kurt could barely tolerate, but Kurt’s hips thrust up into him as best they could all the same.

Blaine was loud, so loud—grunts and groans and moans and whines—and Kurt loved every minute of it.  It wasn't often Blaine wanted this, wanted Kurt inside, but when he did he was so powerfully animalistic that Kurt didn't know what he desired more: to consume Blaine, or to grovel at his feet.

Kurt lost himself in it readily, easily, the sounds and sweat and rhythm all melding together into the singular experience of _being_.  He didn't register on a conscious level when his pleasure edged over the line of _too much_ , his body already accustomed to begging.  He needed to come, needed to come, needed to come… but one thing always overpowered that.

“Not yet,” Blaine told him, and Kurt somehow found the strength to carry on.

It jarred him when Blaine suddenly stopped, pulled away.  Kurt clawed and whined in protest, but Blaine shushed him, turned around and kissed Kurt and shifted Kurt’s body and then he was back again, tight and perfect.  The angle was more awkward like this, but Kurt couldn't care less, grateful for the grounding view of Blaine’s face and his fond, steady gaze.

“Sorry babe,” Blaine said, mouth moist against the jut of Kurt’s jaw.  “I had to see you.  Don’t stop touching me.”

Kurt gripped Blaine’s hips, aiding his movement now that Blaine’s hands were otherwise occupied: one wound in Kurt’s hair and the other stroking his collar.  Everything slowed and built again, and Kurt followed along gladly, his eyes open and fixed on Blaine’s, Blaine’s love in his eyes and his body and his hands and his movement, in Kurt’s collar, squeezing tight at Kurt’s heart.

Eventually Blaine abandoned his hair, snatched one of Kurt’s hands and fisted it tight around his cock, stroking together, inching closer.  Kurt wanted it—wanted to see his Maître’s head thrown back, hear him cry out louder still as he fell apart.  Kurt let his fingers trail up from Blaine’s hip, over the faint dip of his torso and the smooth plane of his chest, brushing the tender curve of his neck to tangle in his curls, pulling Blaine’s head back to lick at his throat.  His hips moved faster, and some distant part of his mind worried for a moment if this was okay. 

But Blaine didn't protest, so Kurt knew that it was.

Blaine’s hand guided his a little quicker, his body tensing, and Kurt wished he could freeze this moment, stay here with Blaine and be owned and loved and safe forever, never leave home again.  Blaine was everything to him—husband and lover and Maître, soulmate and best friend.  _Blaine_.

Blaine was climaxing, and it was beautiful like it was every time.  His come streaked everywhere—on the chair and on Blaine and on Kurt, on his collar.  Kurt loved it when he got this, got marked and owned and used like this.

Eventually it stopped and Blaine slumped down against him, his weight a welcome, familiar burden.  Kurt wanted more than anything to relax and enjoy, to let Blaine take care of him like he always did.  But first he wanted to orgasm.

He wasn't quite willing to disturb Blaine with begging, so he whined, thrusting up fruitlessly a few times until Blaine lifted his head and looked at him.  Kurt watched Blaine’s eyes zero in on his collar, right where he could feel a splatter of drying come, and he whimpered as Blaine smiled possessively and reached up to run his fingers over the spot.

“That was so good, baby,” Blaine told him, meeting his eyes once more.  Kurt couldn't help but smile at the praise, happily accepting Blaine’s kiss while his hips continued their feeble attempt to grind upward.

Eyes still fixed on Kurt’s, Blaine got up, the teasing slide of him lifting off just as much a shock to Kurt as the sudden rush of air.

“Maître, please,” Kurt pleaded.  It was unusual for Blaine to leave him like this, but Kurt had to trust.  If he begged more; if he was good…

“Quiet, sweetheart,” Blaine said with a playful smile, bending down to untie Kurt’s legs.  This was not a good sign.

Blaine took a moment to massage each calf, pressing a kiss to both Kurt’s knees before taking his hands and pulling him to his feet.

What Blaine did next was completely unexpected.

Gracefully, Blaine lowered himself to the floor, lying flat on his back.  He spread his legs too wide to be anything but an invitation, then turned half-lidded eyes back to Kurt.

“Come down here, baby.  I want you to fuck me until you come.”

Kurt needed no further bidding—he was on his knees then on Blaine then inside, fucking him the best he knew how.

It was strange to be on top of Blaine like this, but certainly not unwelcome.  Blaine’s arms wound around his back and held tight, one hand fisting in his hair, his voice in Kurt’s ear.

“You’re so good for me, sweetheart.  So good.  I want your come in me; want to feel it dripping down my thighs.   Fuck me so good, so perfect.”

If Kurt had been thinking at the moment, it might have occurred to him how oversensitive Blaine probably was.  But the best part was that he didn’t have to think.  Maître asked to be fucked, so Kurt fucked him.

It didn’t last long—Kurt had been on edge for what seemed like hours now, and Blaine’s body felt so good, so right, wrapped snug around his.  Blaine’s mouth smothered his cry as he finally peaked, and Kurt’s pleasure seemed to go on forever, his entire body alight with surrender.

When he came to again, Blaine had rolled them over, and Kurt could feel the imprint of the carpet against his back and Blaine’s soft, warm lips as they showered kisses all over his face and neck.  There was wetness, too—more wetness than usual, and Kurt couldn’t figure out which one of them was crying, didn’t want to try to know anything but the comforting press of Blaine’s body and the sated heaviness of his limbs.

Slowly, the voice returned; Kurt could make out words like _perfect_ and _beautiful_ and _precious_ , all the things Blaine knew he loved to hear.  He opened his eyes.

It was Blaine.  Blaine was crying.

“Hey,” Kurt said, smiling weakly and reaching up to cup his husband’s face. 

“Hi,” Blaine answered back.

“Is something wrong?”

Blaine laughed and sniffled.  “Of course not, Precious One.  Everything’s perfect.  I’m just having a moment; that’s all.”

 “We have a lot of moments.  A lot of good moments,” Kurt agreed.

Blaine nodded.  “Yeah, that’s what I was just thinking about.  How grateful I am to have you, to have what we’ve built together.  You’re kind of everything.  I’d do anything for you; I hope you know that, Kurt.  I just… I love you so much.”

Kurt beamed.  “I love you too, Blaine.  It goes both ways.  Can I get away with a ditto?”

“I suppose I can allow a ditto,” Blaine conceded graciously, his smile lighting up his face even through his tears. “So long as you know how I feel.”

“I know,” Kurt said, fingering his collar, pressing Blaine’s hand against his heart, then covering Blaine’s heart with his own.  “It’s all right here.”

With all the emotions that had passed between them over the years, there was nothing Kurt had ever felt as strongly, nothing that had ever felt so sure: Blaine’s love.

“Happy Anniversary, Blaine,” he offered, hoping his simple words might convey so much more.

Blaine’s nose nuzzled down into his, an Eskimo kiss.  “Happy Anniversary, my Precious One.


End file.
